


Dawning

by RaccoonMama



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assisted Suicide mention, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Transformers Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:45:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3245060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaccoonMama/pseuds/RaccoonMama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When someone's life is on the line, a few inches makes all the difference. And those few inches can change the course of an entire war. [in progress]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dawning

The memory still chilled her.

The initial message, Cliffjumper requesting the backup she had originally offered. He had sounded… scared. The big red mech, with his bullheaded attitude and tendency to go toe to toe with big Decepticon bruisers like Shockwave, very rarely seemed to feel fear. Not as often as he felt laughter, mischief, and affection. He shared his love freely, the same as his smile, but fright? If he felt it, it didn’t show, except in those rare times his two-wheeled partner was injured.

But there he was, calling her, requesting back-up. He did not plead, or beg… he simply asked. Arcee knew that tone in his voice.

Then the line had gone dark.

How close they had come to disaster... the sinking feeling like a hot stone in her tanks, and the strangely detached emptiness that settled in when they thought he was dead. Though a lot of good finding him had done. Cliffjumper remained laying all too still for his boisterous nature, hooked up to too many machines, the sound of steady beeps and humming filling the still air where his cheery laugh and endless stories had once hung. Those machines were keeping him alive, and it broke Arcee’s spark to see it. To hear the deafening silence behind the constant thrum of the medical devices Ratchet wasn’t even certain still worked. There was no cocky smile on Cliffjumper’s handsome face, no mischievous glimmer in those bright turquoise optics. There he rested, limp and lifeless, struggling to keep his tenuous grip on life, spark pulsing weakly and all too dim in the darkness.

Arcee’s optics dimmed, a frown crossing her faceplate as she pulled her knees up against her chassis, arms wrapping around her legs. There were very few times in the course of the past several weeks she had not ended and begun her days seated in silent vigil at her partner’s side. The human boy, Jack, did take up some of her time; he was her charge now, after all. She was leery, however, of allowing him to get too close. The awful feeling that too much could go wrong, the realization that she had been as helpless to save Cliffjumper as she had to help Tailgate, still sat sour in her tanks. If she hadn’t been able to save her partners - two mechs with service histories outlining the dangerous missions they’d survived without her there, how could she expect to protect a small human boy?

Right now, however, reality still burned into her, as heavy as the bulk of Cliffjumper’s mostly limp frame after she’d caught him mid-fall from the ledge. He had been all but a dead weight, sagging against her with a weak and weary smile, EM field burning with pain as his systems chimed out repeated alarms in regards to critical system damage and dangerous levels of energon depletion. He had been beaten and abused, but still he tried to keep his head up, refusing to acknowledge his discomfort or the gaping hole Starscream had torn in his abdomen. (A hand’s breadth higher, Ratchet would say later, and his spark would have been pierced and terminated. To say nothing about the shard of dark energon Megatron had been preparing to shove into his spark.) He’d even maintained consciousness all the way back to base, trying weakly to joke with Arcee and only powering down when Ratchet put him in emergency stasis. He hadn’t stirred since.

The same, she realized, could not be said of a presence she had become aware of several minutes before.

Her optics narrowed slightly. She heard the movement behind her despite how silent the intruder was trying to be, but she did not budge. Whoever it was posed no threat, and she had a feeling she knew who it would be the instant she turned. Shifting slightly, she glanced over her shoulder, and there stood Jack, foot poised over the last step onto the raised platform Agent Fowler normally occupied. His blue eyes were wide in surprise, and for lack of any action to perform in light of his guardian catching him slinking about, he puffed his dark hair out of his face and made an attempt at a friendly grin.

“...hey, Arcee.”

“Hey yourself.” She sat up fully so she could adjust and face him. “Why are you here? It’s late. Your mom’ll be worried.”

The boy shrugged, walking over to sit on the edge of the platform, legs dangling over the side as he folded his arms on the bar. “She’s working a double shift and won’t be home till like ten tomorrow morning. Besides, it’s a Friday night. If I get home after her tomorrow, I’ll just stop and get milk and a couple of subs and say I went out and got her dinner.”

Arcee gave him an incredulous look, corners of her lip plating pulling down into a slight frown. “...I don't think she'll buy that.”

Jack just rolled his eyes, resting his cheek against his arms, never taking his gaze off her. It was unsettling, how he seemed to just look right through her. With that piercing gaze and too stern for his age expression, she swore the human boy could be a Prime. “You sound just like her sometimes.”

“Now you’re just talking to irritate me.” She turned back to Cliffjumper, winglets lifting in her irritation. “What in the world could I possibly have in common with your mom?”

He didn’t reply at first, sitting still in the uneasy silence he was sharing with her. Finally, he sighed, pressing his lips together for a moment. “You’re stubborn, for one thing. You push yourself harder than anyone else because you think everyone deserves to rest but you.” He saw her winglets lift sharply, but pressed on. “You also care a lot more than anyone I know. Mom just shows it a lot more. There’s an expression, wearing your heart on your sleeve. It means you show your feelings openly even if it could hurt. I think you do too, no matter how much you try not to. You just pretend no one notices.”

Arcee bristled sharply, though she couldn’t really deny he was right. How could one human youngling be so damn intuitive? She turned her optics back on him, their light spiraling to focused pinpricks. “I don’t. I don’t have the time or the energy to waste on letting people close, or letting people see how I’m feeling.”

“You don’t hide how you feel about Cliffjumper.” When Jack spoke those words, Arcee felt her spark clench. She was always careful about when she sat with the big bruiser, careful of how she held herself and how much she said. But then… before they had thought Cliffjumper was dead… She lifted her chin slightly when the boy continued. “...you love him, right? I mean… not that I have any real experience to compare it to. My dad left when I was a baby, Mom hasn’t dated since, and I’m “just a kid,” for all I’m sixteen and everything. But you look at him like he’s way more important than a friend.”

The femme’s frown grew softer than she intended, despite how hard she was trying to glare.She had no intention of answering his question, however, instead opting to change the subject. “Are you going to sit here and talk at me all night?”

He shrugged, tipping his head to the other side. In his favor, he chose not to pursue the topic, calmly rolling along with her inquiry. “You’re talking back, so I’m guessing that’s a conversation. Besides, I couldn’t sleep, and I figured you could use the company.”

Arcee hesitated, then ex-vented softly, optics dimming as she looked back to Cliffjumper’s still frame. She couldn’t exactly send him home this late. Most of the other Autobots were already in recharge, and she wasn’t about to send him back on his bike. “...this doesn’t mean we’re friends, you know.”

“I know.” The boy smiled, straightening so his chin remained resting on his arms. His expression was impish, and not unlike ones Cliffjumper wore when he planned to weasel a laugh out of her. “I figured I was just being nice.”

* * *

What she had intended to simply be a quiet night turned into several hours of conversation. She was surprised at how intelligent the boy was; at sixteen vorn, a newbuild was nowhere near as bright as humans seemed to be at the age of their equivalent number of trips around their sun. He had dozed off sitting up, much later, and she had followed after him, waking only when she felt the weight of a thermal cover being draped over her shoulders.

She blinked drowsily, lifting her head as her optics refocused through the process of her systems powering online. Ratchet was just stepping to the side, his movements as quiet as he could manage. He offered her the faintest of a smile as she stretched. “You really shouldn’t recharge sitting up. You’ll do damage to your spinal struts.”

“Mmh.” It was a noncommittal answer, but that was something he was surely used to. “Where’s Jack? I was going to drive him home so I’d be in the garage when his mom got in...”

“Bumblebee drove him home about twenty minutes ago with a carefully crafted excuse about hearing a knocking sound from your engine, requiring you to have a lengthy stay in a garage. He’ll use his bicycle for the time being.” He followed her gaze to Cliffjumper. “...you’re going to ask me again. Aren’t you?”

She tightened her lip plating, keeping her optics on her partner. “I just… I don’t like seeing him like this. It isn't that I want him gone, but if he's suffering- if we know for sure he won’t wake up-”

Ratchet put up his servos to stop her in her tracks, frowning severely. “Ehp ehp ehp! We do not know if he will remain comatose at this point. System injuries as severe as his can take a considerable amount of time to recover from. That aside, I have never in my entire career as a physician - civilian _or_ military - performed mercy on a patient, and I am not about to start with Cliffjumper.” He paused after that, ex-venting quietly as he reached over to tip her chin up, patiently waiting until she shifted her optics to meet his. “Besides… I know for a fact that you would never forgive me, Arcee. And you would never forgive yourself, either. I understand your pain all too deeply… I watched a few very dear friends waste away in the war myself, and I must admit I wondered if mercy would not be the kinder option. My own former partner often insisted it would be the kindest option. But if I had listened to Pharma then, they would not be alive today.” He gave her as encouraging a smile as he could manage. “So try to keep your chin up. For Cliffjumper’s sake.”

Arcee fell silent as the medic fell back to his work, optics dimming. She often marveled at Ratchet, who - for all his complaints and clear pessimism about how this war would end - remained as hopeful as he could when patients and friends were concerned. He was gentle as could be in all his fussing, and she could never fault him for that. Sometimes he felt more a sire than her own had been.

He headed off after too long, going back to work on the constant project of maintaining the ground bridge, grumbling about the need for a skilled engineer to lend their servos. Couldn’t ask for help from Wheeljack, of course, oh no- the Wrecker was far too dangerous, despite his reputation as one of the most gifted engineering minds on Cybertron. He was reckless and rude and he didn’t need the stress. As he huffed and grumbled on, she allowed herself to smile, glad for the distraction from her thoughts.

“Hey beautiful.” The mumbled, drowsy words shocked her so suddenly from her observation of the grouchy old medic that she nearly toppled from her perch, whipping her head around to find Cliffjumper looking up at her, his optics dimly lit and a sleepy half smile resting on his faceplate. “Smilin’ because I’m so handsome…?”

She clapped her servos over her mouth not quite fast enough to muffle the ragged sob that tore out of her vocalizer, optics wide and focused. He was awake. He was awake, and he was talking to her. The sound drew Ratchet back over to them, his own expression more stern and concerned than surprised. He was already starting scans, adjusting machines, as Arcee gaped at her partner. He looked like he may have had something else he wanted to say, but he was silenced with a hoarse yelp when - as soon as Ratchet was no longer in her way - she landed a solid punch to his upper arm. 

“You fragger!” she barked, angry with how her voice trembled and broke. “I was worried sick! You’ve been in emergency stasis for weeks!”

Cliffjumper groaned, flexing his arm weakly at the elbow joint. “You still hit harder than a titan,” he grumped, voice still drowsy. “Is that any way to greet your partner after he’s had a brush with the maker?”

She scowled at him, another sob wrenching from her, though when Cliffjumper reached for her, she grabbed hold of his hand as though he would vanish if she failed to. Then, quietly, she pressed her face against his palm and let the walls topple (though when she looked back on that moment, she was fairly certain there was no holding back the swell of relief and fear that hit her in that moment), weeping against his hand as Ratchet quietly moved aside, shooing away Bumblebee, Bulkhead, Raf, and Miko from where the commotion had drawn them to look.

It was something she did not do. Arcee did not cry. She had not cried since war had torn away her closest friends, since Tailgate died. She hadn’t allowed herself that luxury. It wasted time and distracted her. Now she couldn’t keep from it, no matter how bitter and angry she felt about the emotions feeling as though they were ripping out of her chest. She could just hear Cliffjumper, concerned even through his exhaustion, apologizing over and over, his thumb shakily stroking her helm crest. He was sorry for hurting her, sorry for scaring her, sorry for worrying her.

The action was so very Cliffjumper that, after she felt she had cried herself out, she started to laugh, small digits curling against his much larger black servo. She could just see his face through blurry, unfocused optics, partly obscured by the cleansing fluid that had rushed up to the edges, confused and worried. “You idiot,” she choked, somewhere between laughter and tears. “You big, stupid, fragging idiot. Stop being sorry. It wasn’t your fault.”

* * *

Jack arrived on his bike sometime later in the afternoon, finding Arcee sitting where he had left her, though this time she seemed in much better spirits. More surprising still, she smiled when he greeted her.

“Hey. You look better.”

“Hey yourself,” she replied, sitting up straighter. “Get in any trouble?”

He shook his head as he took his spot on the edge of the raised platform, arms folding once again on the lower railing. “Nah. Bumblebee got me home before Mom, and she found me napping on the couch. I helped her do some yard work, then told her I was gonna go meet up with some friends. I think she’s happy I’m getting out more.” He rested his chin on his arms, giving her a curious look. “So how about you? You look like you’re in a better mood.”

Slowly, Arcee nodded, glancing back at where Cliffjumper was resting. He was hooked to far less machines, and he even shifted in recharge now and then, restless as ever. “Yeah. The big guy woke up this morning. Ratchet said he’s not quite out of the woods, but… he’s optimistic. Kind of mad at me that I punched poor Cliff in the arm, though.”

Jack perked up at that, grinning. “Well hey, that’s great news! I mean, obviously he’s got a ways to go, but it’s better than nothing, right?”

Arcee gave a sort of half shrug, but her smile was a good indication that she wasn’t feeling as bitter as she had been. “If there’s one thing Cliff is, it’s stubborn. I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”

She was right, of course. And it was only a few days later that the mech was sitting up, supported by Bulkhead’s hand on his shoulder, grinning and wearily laughing as he was greeted back into the fold. He gave curious looks to the humans, even allowing Miko to stand in his palm for a bit, and he smiled at the girl when she gave him an encouraging thump on the thumb. “You’re a pretty all right kid. Got a lot of spunk. How do you keep up with her, Bulkhead?”

“I don’t, usually,” the ex-Wrecker responded sheepishly, reaching out to let Miko climb back into his hand so Cliffjumper could rest his arm. “She keeps us all on the edges of our pedes.”

The girl puffed up a bit, hands on her hips as she smiled up at her friend. “I just like to keep you guessing! It’s so sweet that we got a new bot around, though. He’ll be up and kickin’ Decepticon tail in no time!”

“He probably has to recover a lot more, Miko,” Raf pointed out. “But it IS really nice that your friend’s okay, Arcee.”

Arcee blinked, lifting her head. She seemed surprised to have been addressed, but judging from her expression, she didn’t quite mind it. It was Ratchet, however, who answered. “It was dicey there for a while, but Cliffjumper’s condition has improved immensely. I cannot in good conscience release him for active duty just yet, but… I am confident he will make a full recovery.”

And for that, everyone was grateful.


End file.
